


I'll Miss You

by skysonfire



Category: Alice in Chains
Genre: Christmas Lights, F/M, Heroin, One Shot, Reminiscing, Sad, Seattle, grunge rock, sad love story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 12:26:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6566146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skysonfire/pseuds/skysonfire





	I'll Miss You

Thirteen long years had passed and he was still dead. I don’t know what I expected. Reanimation of dust and decay? Maybe a tidal change that would bring the warm ocean waves back into the dry sockets where his eyes used to be. My heart wished for it every day, and sometimes, in the dark, I would put on the old records just to hear his voice. It was always so different from the voice I had known, but we had been in a different kind of dark back then. Alone. Together.

There had been red in his short strawberry curls the last time I’d seen him, prior to death’s unwelcome visit. He pushed his way into my apartment with that boyish smile and those otherworldly eyes; a little too big for his face and a little too blue for the angels. His prominent jaw and chin were rough with a short blonde beard, and when he pressed his plush lips behind my ear he smelled like oil and incense, and something salty and southern that I couldn’t quite place.

I was mad for him, and our anticipatory exhalations encouraged us into my dark bedroom left over with a few strings of holiday lights. The air in the room was heavy and the curtains brought with them the trace of night. 

I remember thinking that my pale skin looked yellow and bruised in the dim glow of the lights. He removed my clothes so carefully, watching my body the entire time. He didn’t realize, but he would bite his lip, and his fingertips were an excitement along the flesh of my ribs — his touch was so soft before his grip on me turned sure and fraught.

I worried about his thinning frame and the tracks on his arms, but his attention was without falter. I would kiss his fingers and he touched them down my throat, between my breasts, over my navel and across my pelvic bone. I arched toward him and he would use his thumb to stimulate my tenderness and his eyes to entice the slick that would welcome him when he pushed my knees apart. His fuck was slow at first, and I loved it — the way every ridge filled and fondled me. I would weave my fingers through his soft hair and he hummed against my ear. “Oh, god, don’t stop,” I whispered, my voice so heated – the blood rushing in my ears so intense.

My thighs coated with our wanting, we would lie quietly and share a cigarette. 

“I’m going to miss you,” he would say with that sweet voice tapped with a gruff cantor. “Miss me?” I asked. “When?”

“Ya know,” and he would take a drag from our cigarette.


End file.
